


Be as You've Always Been

by VivificanousPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Megatron finds out who Optimus Prime is, Megatron is dramatic, One-Sided Attraction, Starscream being Starscream, Trust Soundwave to take care of everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivificanousPrime/pseuds/VivificanousPrime
Summary: War has been declared. As the Decepticons make their way to lay siege on Iacon, Megatron has one clear goal in mind: kill Sentinel Prime.With victory at hand, Megatron doesn't anticipate the opposition he is met with. Or who this new mech really is.
Relationships: Megatron/Orion Pax
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Be as You've Always Been

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As per my usual, all my work exists in the same overall storyline, though each can be read separate. This one is the first battle Megatron and Optimus Prime ever engage in. 
> 
> I'm using elements of the Megatronous/Orion Pax origin story from Prime, so this can also be read as an elaboration from that universe with Sentinel resembling his IDW color scheme and Bayverse frame.
> 
> Title from Hozier’s “Be”.

Megatron couldn’t have imagined a more satisfying sight.

Bodies littered the streets amidst the rubble of collapsed buildings. Battle cries erupted from the throats of frustrated mechs finally receiving the upper hand. Gladiators, miners, servants, prostitutes. They all had their say now, no longer content to be silenced.

They deserved this. All of this. Megatron snarled as he kicked aside the empty corpse of an Elite Guardsman. The fool had made his decisions, had ignored the cries of the oppressed, and had solemnly paid the price for his arrogance. They all had. Every supporter of the would-be Prime, Sentinel.

The thought of his enemy pulled a twisted smile on his face. He had a promise to keep.

Megatron continued his march through the remnants of his Decepticons’ battle, pleased by how easy it had been. Sentinel’s forces were as weak as he was, and they had lay waste to the opposition. It was only a matter of time, Megatron realized, before his plan came to fruition. The fighting would end soon enough at this rate. By dusk, Iacon would be theirs.

With a commanding bellow, Megatron sent his crowd of followers forward to the next city. Five total, Megatron reminded himself. Five total satellite states protected Iacon’s main border, and they had conquered four.

Megatron shifted his gaze skyward. Seekers glided past, flying circles around the ground forces. Not for the first time, he marveled at their sleek frames bending the wind to their will. Haunting things when they wanted to be, and Sentinel had been foolish enough to make them his enemy.

Their march continued even as a new line of defenses came into view. Soldiers lined the border, shielding their core with their own bodies. But the Decepticons were willing to do the same, only they had nothing to lose.

In front of the row of guardsmen stood Sentinel himself. Gleaming orange armor arrogantly proclaiming he had never seen conflict. Not of this caliber, at least. Megatron had bet on that. Sentinel was a corrupt politician, not a wartime leader. He had received training in combat as a rite in becoming Prime but never had cause to use it. All technique and no skill. Victory was practically tangible.

“Sentinel Prime: honor bound.” Soundwave appeared at Megatron’s side. “Challenge: will be accepted. Megatron’s success: assured.”

“Adhere to the tradition, Soundwave,” Megatron ordered, loud enough that nearby Decepticons would be able to hear. “Now is no time for tricks, else we forfeit the trust of our people.”

“Understood.” Soundwave bowed his helm in compliance, no doubt relaying the order throughout the comm channels. Megatron returned the gesture and fix his focus on his opponent.

Sentinel Prime was approaching them, guarded on all sides by tall, warrior-class mechs. The display of power was nothing more than a grand show. But should things escalate, his private sentries could potentially be more of a challenge, Megatron theorized as he walked towards his challenger. But they would fall as all followers of this dictator must. Where Sentinel waltzed with the confidence of someone who never knew loss, Megatron walked with the determination of someone more than willing to change that. Soundwave flanked his right side, Ravage on his left, but they were there only as part of the show.

The two leaders met in the midpoint of conflict. The Prime was an impressive mech, but he still failed to reach eye level with the hulking mass that was the Gladiator of Kaon.

“So,” Sentinel began, “I understand it is your custom to offer an all-or-nothing option?”

Something in the tone of his slick voice or the condescending way Sentinel smirked filled Megatron with disgust. He felt unclean just being in the presence of this mech, an impressive feat given his previous function as a miner. No attempts were made to hide his sneer or filter his own tone. “I extend to you a challenge. Defeat me in combat—no interference—and my party will relent. Should _I_ defeat you,” at this, Megatron raised his chin proudly, “then your forces will cease their attempts to stop us from reaching your capital.”

“By ‘defeat’ you mean to—”

“Kill one another, yes.” Megatron softened his voice as he mocked, “Or does the thought of such brutalities frighten you? I understand you are a fan of the Gladiator Pits.”

Sentinel struggled to conceal his fury, as if to fear death was somehow dishonorable. “That is what I thought. After all, all you people are good for is killing and being killed.”

“I wonder which role you will be playing.” No other words left to say, Megatron turned his back on the Prime, Soundwave and Ravage dutifully following.

Two semi-circles were formed, each crowding their respected leaders while the seekers watched from the sky. Sentinel took his time nitpicking flaws in his armor as the gathered organized. A clever way to bid his time, Megatron thought, and to hide his fear.

The Decepticon leader required no such preparation. Years of being thrown into a fight with little warning had quickened him. It was a wonder what Sentinel could possibly do to save himself. He had to know he was doomed. That he had allowed Megatron to drag him into his enemy’s territory. His Decepticons and Sentinel’s guard made up the arena walls. The audience cheered in his favor, Sentinel’s forces remaining respectively silent. The pride radiating off his people cast aside any lingering exhaustion from the day’s siege. Such confidence that the Mighty Megatron even at his lowest could outmatch a Prime.

One last match, Megatron thought. He would make it count.

The roaring from the audience grew louder as the Prime adopted a ready stance. Megatron seized the moment to gaze into the eyes of this new opponent. Sentinel’s optics gleamed, whether from a registered fear or stupid confidence Megatron could not discern. No matter. Both assured the Prime’s downfall.

Megatron allowed Sentinel to make the first move. The Prime charged him, holding his long sword low across his body. He heaved his weapon higher and swung down hard in a full-bodied arch in the direction of Megatron’s chest, but the gladiator easily sidestepped.

A chuckle escaped him. It was just as he predicted. Sentinel, the fool, broadcasted his moves like a novice training against his mentor.

Sentinel turned and swung again, this time paralleled with the ground. The low blow to his knees was avoided with a simple leap, and Megatron took the height advantage to twist in the air and deliver a hard kick to the Prime’s face. The blow sent him flying backward as Megatron landed with a deep thud, the metal of Sentinel’s back scraping the floor as he slid. Sentinel wasn’t down long, though. With an infuriated roar, he sprang from the ground to drive his weapon clean through Megatron’s spark.

Megatron transformed his own weapon to parry the attack and shove him passed. Sentinel regained his footing, aiming for the back of Megatron’s neck. The opening closed as, with a lightening twist, Megatron turned to drive his axe down onto the sword, snagging it in the metal ground. The axe then made to remove Sentinel’s head but missed as the helm quickly ducked. Not completely in time. Part of a helm fin went flying, much to the crowd’s delight. Sentinel grunted at the pain, falling to a knee and clutching his helm.

Sentinel groaned something strained and furious. He released his bleeding helm in favor of his sword and rose to take another swing. The sword connected, but to Sentinel’s horror, it had found itself trapped. Its edge cut into the indifferent plating of Megatron’s grip.

Megatron loomed over him, hand shedding a few beads of energon from the cut, mouth set in a hard line. A part of him was sickened by it all. Having risen this high only to be reduced once more to a mindless fighter.

But his supporters yelled him on, pleading for Sentinel’s end. That doubt was effectively crushed by the dawning realization that with one fatal motion, an abuser of power would meet his end.

He would put on a show, then. He would draw out the Prime’s demise for the sake of all oppressed by this false-Prime’s blasphemy.

Axe shifted into a fist, Megatron peered down at the source of all his and his people’s grief as it stared, terrified, up at him.

“ _Weakling_ ,” Megatron hissed.

Sentinel was given no warning as Megatron wretched the sword out his bloodied grip, flinging it to the nearby crowd of cheering Decepticons. In a flash, Sentinel went from standing to sprawled on his back struts by a striking back hand, pinned down by a knee jabbing his abdomen. The gladiator pressed his weight into the plating, and Sentinel shouted as his frame gave under the abuse. He pushed and threw his fists at the mech above him, but Megatron was unmoved.

“What chance did you think you had against me?” Megatron secured his flailing servos.

“Tarnish scrap!” Sentinel spat. Then he smirked. “I have every advantage.”

“Oh, really?” The knee pinning him shoved harder into the bent plating.

A shot rang out, colliding with Megatron’s back. The force jerked him forward, nearly crashing him atop Sentinel. The afflicted plating burned but not nearly as hot as Megatron’s fury. He instantly rolled to his right should the interferer try again to down him. Sure enough, no sooner had Megatron dodged, a blast struck the space where he had been.

Fatal mistake. Megatron had witnessed the angle of attack, a near upright shot originating somewhere in the direction of his peds.

Megatron heaved himself to a run, another shot narrowly missing him.

Ahead of him, a border patrol tower stood proudly like a beacon. He twirled to the right, avoiding another attempt at ending him.

His right arm shifted into his gun. Finding his footing, Megatron took aim and fired at the tower’s balcony.

The gathered held their breaths as a form appeared from the place Megatron had aimed. It slouched on the balcony’s edge before falling forward. The world fell silent as the sniper’s frame encountered the consequences of gravity and created a small crater where it landed in front of its killer.

A transformation sounded from directly behind him.

“What does it matter _how_ I end you?” Sentinel reasoned. Megatron felt the air behind his helm shift, becoming static from the charging of a weapon.

“And here I mistook you for a mech of honor,” Megaron retorted.

“It only matters that you _end_. By my hand.”

“You have broken during our challenge. Whatever victory you claim is hollow.”

“I can live with you not living.” The gun arm nudged his helm. “Face me.”

“As your _equal_ ,” he spat, but complied. With deliberate motions, Megatron turned to stare down the barrel of Sentinel’s gun. He had the apparent foresight to charge it. One thought, and Megatron would acquire a hole through his processors.

Megatron grinned. An unnerving, sinister gesture that promised fates worse than death. A chill ran through Sentinel’s circuits, and his arm visibly shook. He swiped at a bead of energon streaming down his face from his wound before grabbing his gun arm to steady it.

“ _Coward_.” Sentinel gasped at the sudden voice behind him. Cold. Calculated. And livid.

Sentinel’s chest burst apart, separating to make way for the blast, and Megatron stepped back as the imploding spark scorched his front plating. The Prime fell to his knees before the miner.

Arms reached out to him, and Megatron seized them. Sentinel clung to him as he struggled to keep his spark spinning. Megatron sunk down to peer into his enemy’s dying eyes. They pleaded at him, begged for life, for mercy. As if, after centuries of draining the life out of those beneath him, a Tarnish miner would ever try to save him. Megatron gripped the Prime’s chin to fix his last gaze on him. He watched as slowly, painfully, the spark residing in the torn apart chamber ceased its spinning. It pulsed something desperate, Sentinel’s optics dimming in time, before succumbing to the inevitable.

With one last gasp, a last sputter, Sentinel’s spark gave out.

The empty husk of the once powerful mech was shoved to the side to grey as Megatron rose, a victor. The Decepticons ran forward, cheering for their leader, who turned his gaze from the lifeless form to survey his people. Most had drawn their weapons, and some remained trained on the opposition, who stood in a stunned silence, at a lost.

Soundwave stood before him coolly. His firearm still smoldering.

“Sentinel: broke code. Penalty: death.”

Megatron fixed his friend with a grin. Excuses, excuses.

“Rally our forces. We will make way for Iacon.” Soundwave bowed his approval and called to their still cheering militia.

Megatron faced the Elite Guardsmen Sentinel left with him. The four sentries motioned forward, prepared to battle in the name of their fallen leader, but the soldiers behind them staggered back in fear. “There is no need for further violence,” he spoke, loud enough for all to hear him while keeping his voice even. “Your Prime wished to murder me, I wished only for a fair fight. A show of resolve and of strength.

You are being deceived, in more ways than just here. Allow me, if you will, to awaken you.” Megatron approached the guideless with open arms. “Join me?”

“Or die, I take it?” one of the sentries countered.

“Or remain here, left behind to mourn the loss of a mech not worth your time.”

“You lie.”

“What actions have I taken to suggest I would?”

There, the mech drew a blank. It hadn’t been Megatron to play tricks during the challenge, but Sentinel. It hadn’t even been Megatron who killed him, a fate the Prime had agreed to. All four sentries stood in turmoil while the soldiers behind them began to cautiously step forward. One by one, Iacon’s finest surrendered.

Satisfied, Megatron turned to Soundwave. “Open a secure channel to Starscream.”

The host complied, extending his wrist port to connect. It took a moment to encrypt the frequency, but Starscream answered readily.

::How fairs the siege?:: Starscream asked, voice laced, as it always was, with mocking sarcasm.

::Sentinel Prime has fallen.::

That shut him up for a glorious several klicks before the seeker rediscovered words. ::You did it, then. You actually did it, afthead.::

Megatron growled at the insult. ::I have completed the first objective. I trust you will now do your part.::

::I shall take great pleasure in taking out these idiots.::

::Just ensure that it is done.:: Megatron cut the transmission.

Starscream was a mild nuisance but well worth the verbal abuse. As Winglord of the (destroyed) sovereign city-state of Vos, he had access to places and people in the Council Chambers Megatron could never hope to approach. So, it was left to the seeker to weasel his way into claiming an audience with the Council under the guise of peace negotiations between Iacon and what remained of Vos.

As if the seekers would ever forgive the atrocities that befell them.

Megatron had no trouble setting Starscream loose on the Council.

A blinding glare interrupted Megatron’s thoughts. He reeled back to block the light reflecting off the city towers. Cyberton’s sun set on the horizon. Night was fast approaching, as was their victory.

“Decepticons!” he boomed, everyone’s gaze snapping to their leader. “The Prime proved his frailty. He was not deserving of your admirations! But _Sentinel_ ,” the name was spat with as much hatred as Megatron could muster into his tone, “was not alone in his corruption. There remains the elite.” Roars of distaste and animosity resonated throughout the gathered, even some of the newly surrender joining in despite their obvious discomfort. Megatron held himself a little prouder. Sentinel did not deserve his people’s praise, never made attempts to. But he swore to be better. To be worthy. To be a leader of the people, for the people, chosen by the people.

“With me.”

Megatron turned his back to the sun, haloed by the light of his people. He spoke, and they followed.

Iacon’s main gate gleamed ahead, visible after only a few breems of their walking. Far in front, another line of defenders stood between Megatron’s and Starscream’s fronts. No doubt these warriors were sent on account of their leader’s demise, but without the Prime to command them, Megatron was sure they were lost. The defenders of Iacon remained steady even as Megatron continued his approach. Only once he could clearly see the optics of his enemies did he halt their assault. A simple break in stride, a raise of a hand, and his army obeyed.

“Your Prime has met his maker,” Megatron announced.

“Yeah,” a red warrior took a step forward to address him, “we heard about that.”

Megatron put on his most empathic tone. “I understand there may be lingering animosity towards his killer. But let me assure you, Sentinel died dishonored.”

“No surprise there, mech.” The red mech huffed and shoved his hands to his hips, not a little irritated. “Congrats to whoever snuffed the fragger.”

Not the reaction Megatron had anticipated. He planned his next words carefully. “You hold no respect for your former leader?”

“He wasn’t any of our Prime, I’ll tell you that much.” The mech’s thick accent muddled the words, but the message was still clear and accompanied by agreeing murmurs from the other soldiers.

How had there been an anti-Sentinel movement in Iacon large enough to infect the military and Megatron had not known about it? He and Orion had dedicated decacycles of their time to locating and recruiting every anti-Functionalist organization in their reach. All their intel had pointed to military mechs abiding to the Functionalist agenda. Unless of course…

He shook himself. Orion Pax had not betrayed him until recently. This had to be a new development.

Megatron clinched his fist in an effort to suppress the unbearable emotions surrounding his once close friend. “If you have no love for your governing body, then who is it that commands you and yours?”

The red mech glanced to his comrades, who gave each other pointed looks. A silent decision appeared to made. The mech Megatron had spoken to stepped aside along with the others near him like guards parting for their ruler’s entry. From behind the soldiers, a mech emerged. A tall, sleek warrior frame the likes of which Megatron had never encountered. Something— _someone_ —new. He glided forward with the grace and ferocity of a deity, battle mask already employed and thick arms visibly installed with weaponry. That should have been a warning to Megatron that this mech was prepared for a battle. By the shifting and readying of his Decepticons behind him, it had certainly been a clear message to them. But Megatron remained transfixed. Unafraid, but in a different sense than he had been standing before Sentinel.

This mech was no one he had ever met before, logic dictated such. But that didn’t stop his spark from spinning—from _singing_ —in recognition. Familiarity ghosted him. Megatron mentally swatted it aside, regaining his focus.

Megatron flexed and settled his armor in a manner he knew to be intimidating. “Protector of Iacon, I have bested your would-be Prime. I have reached your gates in a single cycle. I have made clear my purposes. Now tell me, what is it that _you_ want in all this?”

The tall warrior stopped in front of his comrades, fists clinched and head held high. The way he sized him and his forces had Megatron feeling exposed.

“If it is true what your soldier claimed,” Megatron elaborated, “then our shared enemy lies greyed, abandoned even by his own sentries. What more could you desire?”

“Peace. An end to the conflict you seek.” That _voice_. It stole all of Megatron’s attentions, invaded him in its deep bellow. It was as if the whole of Cybertron rumbled at the sound of it. There was that familiarity again. He almost didn’t hear the mech’s next words so transfixed as he was. “I wish to bring about a new era of freedom for all sentient beings. As I understand, that is what you want as well.”

His optics shuttered several times to regain control. There was an opening, an opportunity, that Megatron could not hesitate to take.

“Indeed,” he said. “Perhaps, then, an agreement can be reached?” The mech inclined his helm in interest. Megatron mimicked the motion as he continued. “If it is peace and a new world order built on the basis of equality among all Cybertronians that connects us, then why not join our forces? I extend an offer to you, as an ally.” Megatron took a step forward, extending a hand to the mech. “Join us. There is a place for you and your faction within mine. Within my plans.”

As the line of soldiers shifted and whispered to one another, their leader took an encouraging step forward. “An interesting offer, one I am willing to accept should you explain to me—to us—” he gestured to his comrades behind him “—what exactly those plans are.”

“Of course,” Megatron grinned, stepping closer, “a quite reasonable request.” He folded his servos behind him, doing all that he could to change into a diplomatic persona. He recalled all that Orion had taught him to being charismatic and likable. Smile as though you care. Stand tall as though you are dignified. Keep a steady field as though you have something unattainable. “The plan is simple. The old ways do not suit those whom the system does not favor. The privileged rise as the impoverished fall. The wealthy become wealthier as the poor become poorer. The easiest way to change this is to eradicate the system.”

“By what means?” The mech almost sounded accusatory.

“By wiping out the old ways to begin again,” he said with confidence.

The sleek mech broke his gaze on Megatron to stare at something off to the side. He wore his emotions like paint, Megatron realized as he watched the mech’s eyes search the dimming skyline and his chassis quake in turmoil. Finally, he returned his focus to Megatron.

“You truly mean to continue this killing spree?” There was that accusatory tone again. And that familiarity.

“I do what I must,” Megatron agreed. “The time for speeches has ended. And really, what good did it truly do? No one was willing to change their minds. To change their ways.”

The mech lessened the gap between them, now only a few paces away. If he lunged, Megatron noted, he could be on his opponent in two strides.

“I have to disagree with you,” the mech said. “Your words have changed the course of history. Look behind you at the lives you have altered.” Megatron remained still in his focus on the new mech, who now extended a servos in his direction. “Your point has been made. The conflict can end before more harm can be done.”

“You fail to understand how politics work,” Megatron sneered.

“I am sympathetic to your cause. As Sentinel’s successor, there is a chance now for the talking to resume. For your voices to be heard. Headway can now be made in creating a better society for all who live in it.”

Megatron was sure anyone who so much as glanced at him could make out his confusion. There was no way he could have hidden it. He felt the mass of fields behind him stall in equal hesitance at the new revelations. A quick look at Soundwave proved even the masked host was visibly searching his mind for understanding.

The High Council had chosen Orion Pax as the next Prime. A position that should have, had everything gone his way, belonged to Megatron. Memories of that blasted court, the Senators looming over him, the anger that had consumed Megatron and all his words resurfaced to the forefront of his mind. How could he forget it? The way Orion had clung to him. Begged him into silence. How the mech he thought was his friend took over, reinvented the speech _they_ had wrote to spin a very different tale. A very different plan for change. How could he forget the way Orion had looked so shocked at being deemed worthy of the title of Prime? Or the tragic way he had gazed up at Megatron, palm pressed to a dented cheek, sprawled on the court floor before him.

Megatron worked his servos, the phantom sting from the slap still haunting him. Orion Pax was to be Sentinel’s successor. But as Megatron looked the mech up and down, he doubted the truthfulness of his opponent’s words. This tall, gleaming force radiating power hardly resembled the meek, patient presence of Orion Pax. Both share a similar color scheme. Both spoke of peace. Both possessed a glaring intellect in their deep blue optics.

But this mech was a trick. Had to be.

Megatron growled as he pieced it all together. Sentinel had _hated_ Orion, perhaps even more so than Megatron. He would have never silently accepted the archivist as his true successor so would have resorted to selecting his own: the mech standing before him.

It called into questioned everything said up until that moment. The claim of distaste for Sentinel, the stated desire for peace, the call to change.

“ _Liar_ ,” he hissed. It was so much easier to make the accusation than to consider, even for a moment, that Orion could commit another betrayal.

This had to be a trap.

Megatron approached the warrior with a searing fury. “You would dare to preach to me peace and equality under the guise of falsehoods?”

“I speak no lies, Megatron.” The mech raised his hands in a surrender though he took another step towards him. “I promise you.”

They were a few steps from one another. One lunge, now. The earnestness had Megatron hesitate, the sense of the familiar returning. Megatron avoided the mech’s gaze, sweeping his sights to his loyal friend. Soundwave had moved ahead of their group, eyeing the pair carefully. Megatron worked to bring his conclusions to the front of his thoughts for Soundwave to read. A pressure pushed against his mind as Soundwave prodded and was just as quick to pull away. A nod was all Megatron received. It was all he needed.

Doubt abandoned him to confidence. He turned back to his opponent with a fierce expression, his mouth twisted into a snarl, his eyes alight with rage.

“Step aside!” he bellowed. “Or be _slaughtered_!”

The fraud seemed caught off guard but quickly steeled himself, a stubborn determination clear in his eyes. “No,” he countered, “I will _not_ fight you, Megatron.”

For a moment, Megatron nearly believed him. How foolish. With a humorless laugh at his opponent’s hubris, Megatron said, “I will give you one last opportunity, then. Join or die.”

The mech stood his ground a dangerous four or five strides away, unyielding.

Megatron readied his stance. “Very well then,” he taunted. “One of us shall stand while the other shall fall.”

He struck without further warning. Megatron lunged with a roar, transforming his hand to his axe to slice the mech clean down his center. But the blow failed to land as the warrior side stepped away with ease. Another attack. Another miss.

They danced to the beat of the roaring from the ensuing battle. For every hit Megatron attempted to inflict, his opponent avoided it. For all of Megatron’s strength and speed, his was fairly matched with this mech’s agility.

They moved with a skillful grace. As though this was merely sparring. One student tasked with evading attacks, the other with refining his strikes. Throughout their dance, they failed to become near enough to touch, slow enough to communicate through a look, or sated enough to reach a common ground.

The sun set on the horizon, but the two continued to dance oblivious, silhouetted by the warm light of a fading star and their factions battling around them.

Finally, the mech changed tactics. He pulled his body back, lifting an arm behind himself, to collide his fist into Megatron’s shoulder. Megatron allowed it, preparing to roll with the punch to gain an assessment of the mech’s strength. He got his answer as he was sent flying backward by a surprising feat of power.

Not allowing shock to cloud him, Megatron tucked into a partial transformation to roll with the fall. No sooner had he met the ground had he found himself standing once more. With a short distance now between them, Megatron seized the moment to reassess his enemy. The power he had radiated was evidently no show, given the sizable dent on his shoulder. Megatron had a feeling, though, that the mech was holding back. To underestimate him was to forfeit victory.

“Stop this!” the mech demanded with that commanding tone of his. Megatron had found it ensnaring earlier, but now he was beginning to find it patronizing. “There is no need to fight, Megatron! There are other ways to accomplish our shared goals!”

“What could you and I possibly have in common, hypocrite?” Megatron growled.

His opponent gestured to their warring forces, the chaos that surrounded them. “Is _this_ what you want?”

Whatever trick the mech was preparing for, Megatron prepared himself to counter it. Perhaps it was his aching circuits. Perhaps the warmth of the sun on his back soothed him. But Megatron felt compelled to answer with honesty. “No,” he admitted. “War is not my goal. It is not in my ideal plan. But know this: I will fight who I must if I am to achieve peace and freedom for my people.”

“You would start a war to prevent a war? Is that your plan? Your idea of peace?”

His opponent open in conversation, Megatron lunged at the chance to catch him off guard. He was done entertaining this mech in a debate of morality.

The attack succeeded, and the two fell to the ground as Megatron tackled the warrior. Despite his initial surprise, the mech quickly recovered. Megatron grunted as a knee collided with his side. Then again. And again. The mech strained against the gladiator above him, willing the mech off him. But Megatron effectively held him down.

It took the mech gathering his strength and generating momentum in his free leg to heave them into a roll. Together they spun until the warrior halted them, placing himself on top.

“Enough of this, Megatr—” His words were interrupted by Megatron’s arm breaking free of his grasp to punch him. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground beside Megatron.

The Gladiator of Kaon raised himself, prepared to take another victory. He grabbed the lying mech by the throat, lifting him so they were eye to eye.

“Please,” the mech begged. “I know you to be above this, Megatronous.”

That name.

No flailing. No hitting. No kicking or yelling or twisting away. The mech in Megatron’s grasp just held the arm destroying him. Stared him down. Dropped a simple name.

Just a name. That’s all it took for Megatron’s resolve to shake. For him to make a terrible mistake.

He looked into the mech’s optics. Not just glimpsing, actually seeing the person behind their gleam. As close as they now were, their details were crystal clear. The wisdom that lied within them countered the mech’s youthful frame. That color, their odd brightness, such a familiar light…a light Megatron was now certain he had gazed into before.

Orion—his Orion—had fixed him with that same pleading gaze in the Council’s courtroom. Had reached for him then as he did now. It had taken a slam to the small mech’s cheek to wipe the expression off his face, for him to walk away, least Megatron break under it. And here it was again, determined to haunt him.

His anger fled along with his pride; all that remained was horror.

“Orion…” he whispered.

“Megatron,” the mech—his _friend_ —spoke slowly, nodding, “I am Orion Pax no longer. I am Optimus Prime.”

A storm of emotions tore through Megatron, blinding him from his surroundings. He didn’t realize when he released his hold on Optimus or notice as the mech violently cycled his vents before standing.

What childish notions he had held. How foolish he had been to think a trickster succeeding Sentinel could be the worst situation. How ignorant he must have seemed to believe his world had ended with that betrayal in the courts. No. No, _this_ was far, far worse than any of Megatron’s imagined scenarios.

“Megatron…”

He staggered back at his name being called, mouth agape. He couldn’t find it within himself to close it. Or to look up at his friend.

“Please, old friend, I do not wish to fight you.” Megatron heard Optimus approach him, but he kept his gaze to the ground. “But, I will defend the innocents of this city from your rampage.” Another step closer. Megatron could visualize just fine Orion’s eyes begging him to stay. “Call off the assault. Join me. Together, we can forge a lasting peace as we planned so long ago.”

Megatron finally lifted his helm to stare at the new Prime, his words registering. He felt nothing passed the betrayal and the confusion. The hurt. A whirl wind of torments threating to defeat him. He stared into the eyes of Orion Pax but found a new being had overtaken his frame.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak to it, this _Prime_ parading around in a misshapen version of Orion.

“Decepticons!” Megatron called out. The chaotic motions of the battlefield came to a hush. Red optics turned their gaze upon their leader.

The opposition halted their fighting at command of their Prime, who raised a servo in pause. Optimus looked so hopeful, and Megatron noted that for a brief moment he saw only Orion behind that mask. But a dark seriousness took over once more, leaving only the visage of the Prime.

“Retreat.”

Decepticons all looked to one another, to Soundwave positioned a short ways behind Megatron. The host himself glared at him in confusion, but when Megatron turned to solemnly nod, Soundwave relayed the command over the comm channel. He rallied their forces to fall back, and they followed Megatron’s most trusted without another question.

The sounds of seeker engines rippled the darkening sky over head. Neither leader moved.

Megatron held his ground until the last of his mechs had fled the area, peering at what was once someone he had grown with. Someone he had confided in. Someone he had come to love.

Optimus Prime made to move closer, but for every step he took Megatron moved away. “Megatron, please,” he asserted. “We could be as we have always been.”

Megatron’s plating rattled with animosity. “ _You_ ,” he snarled, “I never knew you.”

Optimus held out a hand to stop him but to no avail. Megatron turned without another word. Transforming, he sped away to follow his faction.

The sky was alight with distant stars and the moonlight of Luna 2.

Megatron had rendezvoused with the remaining Decepticons several breems after departing. They maintained a rigorous pace until Soundwave was confident they were not being followed.

It was a relief to have Soundwave by his side. His steady presence allowed Megatron to calm himself into something more functional. Driving also seemed to help ease his racing mind and spark. Megatron was starting to understand why Starscream had taken to flying so often after the fall of Vos.

It wasn’t until they had settled back into their campsite four cities away that Soundwave finally approached him outside. Megatron knowingly walked with the host away from the rest of their congregation.

Soundwave allowed the tension to hang between them long enough for Megatron to grow uneasy. His friend’s way of being petty, he knew, but that knowledge did nothing to quell Megatron’s increasing discomfort.

“Why retreat?” Soundwave asked in his usual, blunt way. There were times, like now, that Megatron truly appreciated his friend’s self-control. Soundwave had every reason to be furious. Their victory, their control over Iacon, was so close at hand until Optimus Prime emerged. But instead of releasing Unicron upon him, Soundwave remained calm. Professional. Void of emotions, even.

“It was a calculated decision—”

:: _Where are you?_ :: a shriek erupted from their comms, nearly breaking Megatron’s internal audio receptors. Megatron vented with a huff in an effort to cool his frustrations.

::We returned to base.:: he responded.

::Base? You were supposed to meet us in the square!:: Starscream shouted.

::New developments forced us into a retreat.::

::You _retreated_?::

::It was a calculated decision!::

::Calculated, my aft! You _left_ me here looking like a fool!::

::It takes very little to do so.::

:: _You_ —::

::Silence!:: Megatron commanded. ::A new Prime has surfaced.::

That shut him up, though only for a moment. ::Does he favor his predecessor?::

Megatron hoped Starscream didn’t notice his hesitation like Soundwave clearly did. ::No. His ideals are something new.::

::You didn’t make a friend, then?:: Starscream mocked.

Megatron bit back his anger at the oblivious seeker. ::Shut up, you fool. But no, he is not to be our ally.::

::You can’t do anything right.::

::Sentinel has been offlined.:: Megatron growled. ::That was our main goal, and we achieved it.::

::Well,:: Starscream said dismissively, ::I did _my_ part at least. I’ll meet you in Kaon.:: He disconnected the frequency before Megatron could get another word in.

Soundwave still remained beside him, his question still hanging in the air.

“We will move out in two joors to meet Starscream in Kaon,” Megatron relayed, but the information was redundant. Soundwave had listened in, he knew, but Megatron felt unsure in his emotions still. He was woefully unprepared to discuss _that_ side of the day’s battle. “We accomplished our goal today, killing Sentinel Prime. His successor was an unexpected complication,” he said, though to himself or to Soundwave he was uncertain.

Soundwave nodded, nonetheless. “Victory: no longer assured.”

“Indeed, Soundwave. We are waging a war now, not arranging a brawl. It would be unwise to throw all we have into the first punch.” Megatron clasped Soundwave’s shoulder and squeezed at the lifeline. “We have a much longer fight ahead of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love feedback, so let me know what you think!
> 
> Stay happy! Stay healthy! Please wash your hands! The world is a bit chaotic!


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